#Michelle Hermann

[marejadilla]

Michele Petrelli, "Turquoise"

"Those who do not fit into the world are always close to finding themselves." ― Hermann Hesse

[gregor-samsung]

" In fondo, il nostro problema intellettuale è che noi amiamo l’America. Gli Stati Uniti sono stati uno di quei paesi che hanno sconfitto il nazismo, ci hanno mostrato la strada da seguire per la prosperità e la distensione. Se vogliamo accettare pienamente l’idea che oggi stiano tracciando la strada che porta alla povertà e all’atomizzazione sociale, è indispensabile ricorrere al concetto di nichilismo. Quanto alle ragioni tecniche, un’altra cosa che mi spinge a utilizzare questo concetto è la constatazione che i valori e il comportamento della società americana sono oggi profondamente negativi. Come per il nichilismo tedesco […], questa negatività è il prodotto di una decomposizione del protestantesimo, solo che non si verifica allo stesso stadio.

Il nazismo apparve nella sua prima fase dopo che, tra il 1880 e il 1930, il protestantesimo ebbe cessato di essere una religione attiva. Il nazismo corrisponde a un’esplosione di disperazione durante la sua fase zombi, a un’epoca in cui i valori protestanti, positivi e negativi, continuavano a persistere nonostante il venir meno della pratica religiosa. La fase zombi del protestantesimo americano è stata complessivamente positiva. In linea di massima va dalla presidenza di Roosevelt a quella di Eisenhower, e ha visto la nascita dello Stato sociale, delle università che assicurano un insegnamento esteso a tutti e di qualità e il diffondersi di una cultura ottimistica che ha conquistato il mondo. Questa America aveva recuperato i valori positivi del protestantesimo (alto livello di istruzione, egalitarismo tra i bianchi) e stava cercando di liberarsi dei suoi valori negativi (razzismo, puritanesimo). La crisi attuale corrisponde, viceversa, all’approdo allo stadio zero del protestantesimo. Ciò ci consente di comprendere al contempo sia il fenomeno Trump che la politica estera di Biden, tanto il deterioramento interno quanto la megalomania esterna, come pure le violenze che il sistema americano esercita sui propri cittadini e su quelli degli altri paesi. La dinamica tedesca degli anni Trenta e la dinamica americana attuale hanno in comune il fatto di essere animate dal vuoto. In entrambi i casi, la vita politica funziona senza valori, non essendo che un movimento tendente alla violenza. Rauschning definiva il nazismo non diversamente da ciò. Prima di abbandonarlo, fu membro del Partito Nazionalsocialista Tedesco dei Lavoratori (NSDAP): questo conservatore, per così dire “normale”, non poteva tollerare la violenza gratuita. Nell’America di oggi vedo un pericoloso vuoto di pensiero e di idee, condito dall’ossessione per il denaro e il potere, i quali non possono essere in sé dei fini, dei valori. Questo vuoto conduce all’autodistruzione, al militarismo, a una negatività endemica: in sostanza, al nichilismo. "

Emmanuel Todd, La sconfitta dell'Occidente, traduzione di Alessandro Ciappa e Michele Zurlo, Fazi Editore, 2024.

[Edizione originale: La Défaite de l'Occident, Paris, Gallimard, janvier 2024]

[yorgunherakles]

...çok geç, hep çok geç, gölgeler, yansımalar, çatlaklar, savuşmalar, gülümsemeler, yorgunluk ya da vazgeçiş.

perec - uyuyan adam

[thena0315]

25th Anniversary / 25th Reunion Party

[beardedmrbean]

The women of Iran are dancing. Women blinded, with one eye, or one arm, are dancing. Iranian Kurds are dancing. Across Europe, Iranian dissidents are dancing. Iranians – often, relatives of the regime’s victims – are drinking to show their joy. The daughters of Minoo Majidi, a mother shot dead by security services during the 2022 protests, shared a video of them raising a glass to President Raisi’s death. 

Dark humour – the jokes of an oppressed people – are circulating. “Mr Raisi, you surprised us. We have no tapas for our drinks,” chuckles one Iranian in a celebratory video on social media. There was the gag about how a Mossad agent called “Eli Copter” had caused the crash. People have handed out cakes and sweets in public squares – an act of symbolic importance in Persian culture, often associated with joyous events. Celebratory fireworks filled the skies in Iranian cities.

Such courage is all the more impressive given how little Raisi’s death is likely to change anything in this closed prison of a society. It may somewhat alter the succession, since he had been one of the men tipped to succeed Khamenei, but the Ayatollahs retain their stranglehold. The bravery of anyone involved in any celebration or act of civil disobedience such as removing a headscarf, is astounding. Those letting off fireworks or handing out sweets are risking their lives. 

History will remember Raisi as a squalid tyrant who took a twisted pride in human suffering. He was involved in the torture and extrajudicial murder of thousands of political prisoners held in Iranian jails and the mass killings of opponents in 1988, when as many as 30,000 are believed to have lost their lives. As Mariam Memarsadeghi wrote in a chilling article for Tablet magazine, “virgins were systematically raped before their execution, to circumvent the Islamic prohibition on killing virgins and to prevent women and girls from reaching heaven”. 

And yet, the BBC posted about “President Ebrahim Raisi’s mixed legacy in Iran”. You can imagine the 1945 headlines about the mixed legacy of “motorway-builder, vegetarian rights enthusiast and dog-lover” Adolf Hitler, or that of “inspirational plus-size influencer” Hermann Goering. Reuters described how Raisi “rose through Iran’s theocracy from hardline prosecutor to uncompromising president, as he burnished his credentials to position himself to become the next supreme leader”. 

Reading such things you would think Raisi was, at worst, a slight renegade. A cheeky chappie in a kaftan whose loss will be felt by light entertainment for generations. They tweeted like he was Rod Hull – rather than, you know, someone nicknamed “the Butcher of Tehran”. But in the real world, faced with the real consequences of the regime he ran, people are dancing. 

It wasn’t just the BBC in its classic “tightrope walk” mode, either. Things were getting a bit Candle in the Wind at the UN, as the entire Security Council (including both the UK and US representatives) stood to observe a minute of silence for President Raisi. Goodbye Tehran’s rose. 

European Council president Charles Michel tweeted out his sincere condolences, while the “European Commissioner for Crisis Management” committed the EU’s Copernicus satellite system to help locate Raisi’s helicopter, in the name of “#EUSolidarity”. 

Lest we forget, Johan Floderus, a young EU official from Sweden, has been incarcerated at Iran’s notorious Evin prison for more than two years. We don’t see much “#EUSolidarity” coming from the other direction. Not to be undone, President Higgins of Ireland channelled the spirit of Eamon de Valera c.1945, by offering his “deepest sympathies” upon the death of a tyrant. 

Such statements go well beyond basic diplomacy. Nobody asked anyone to gush; they chose to. The message it sends is a slap in the face to those bravely putting their lives on the line for freedom. But it’s par for the course in what is (sometimes optimistically) termed the “international community”. 

Speaking of which, on Monday, the International Criminal Court put out joint bids for arrest warrants for the leaders of Hamas and the prime minister and defence minister of Israel. Given that the ICC has no jurisdiction, nor power of its own to arrest anyone, there was something bleakly comic about the manner of the announcement. Chief prosecutor Karim Khan delivered his statement flanked by a couple of glaring bureaucrats. The ICC appeared to be putting on its best “don’t mess with us” face. It looked like a geriatric version of Bugsy Malone.

The ICC application refers, pointedly, to the “territory of Israel” and the “state of Palestine”, which makes it clear which side its bread is buttered. It notably ignores Hamas’s use of human shields, surely a factor when assessing the civilian death toll. It even holds Israel entirely responsible for “closing the three border crossing points” after October 7. 

Yet Hamas destroyed the Erez crossing, murdering its operators and blowing up the barriers separating it from the Gaza strip. Small wonder border checkpoints weren’t up and running immediately. Condemning Israel for this is grotesque; gaslighting on an international scale. 

The timing is also telling. We have known about the crimes of October 7 from day one, thanks to the body-cams Hamas terrorists so proudly wore to document their butchery. Yet the ICC waited until May 2024 to condemn both Israel and Hamas on the same day. The effect is to suggest a moral equivalence between a democratic state and a genocidal terrorist group that says it wants to repeat the atrocities of October 7 indefinitely. You don’t have to believe Israel is above criticism – and nor should we – to recognise this. 

Multinational organisations like the ICC are often held up as moral arbiters in themselves, when they will only be as virtuous or corrupt as their component member states, and reflecting the same biases. The World Health Organisation has long excluded Taiwan from its membership due to Chinese pressure. A ruinous decision, when Taiwan’s early warnings about the risks of human-to-human transmission of Covid in late 2019 were ignored. Something is rotten in the state of many international bodies and moral courage is in short supply. 

Given such a clear-cut case of evil as Raisi, the mealy-mouthed global response does not bode well. For genuine bravery, we can look to the people at the sharp end of such regimes. Because still, in the midst of it all, the women of Iran dance. 

[germanpostwarmodern]

The architecture of expressionism was one of Wolfgang Pehnt’s life themes: already in 1973 he published the first edition of his reference work „Die Architektur des Expressionismus“, a fundamental study of the origins and manifestations of expressionist tendencies in European architecture with an emphasis on the German developments. For a long time I had been searching for the last and significantly expanded edition from 1998, published by Hatje Cantz, and a while ago I finally found a copy in the right condition. In contrast to earlier editions the present one is larger in size and also includes a number of stunning color photographs that perfectly suit the colors of some of expressionism’s most significant buildings. Beyond this the strength of the book not only is Pehnt’s lucid writing but also his ability to tie together the different strands of expressionism. Pehnt leads the reader along the precursors Antoni Gaudí, the Prague Cubists and also the German Monumentalism of the turn of the century towards the German key expressionists Hans Poelzig, Bruno and Max Taut and the „Gläserne Kette“ architects. In individual chapters Pehnt introduces important members like the Brothers Luckhardt, Hans Scharoun or Hermann Finsterlin whose utopian architectural visions evidence the polyphony of expressionism.

The other end of the spectrum represents the Northern German Expressionism: while the metropolitan exponents around Bruno Taut and Walter Gropius dreamt up a messianic communism, protagonists like Fritz Höger and Bernhard Hötger indulged in Germanic mythology and the brick as representative of the German temper. So, it is not surprising that both later associated themselves with the Nazis.

In terms of European expressionism Pehnt primarily focuses on Amsterdam School and its exponents Michel de Klerk and Piet Kramer but also sheds light on the anthroposophical architecture by Rudolf Steiner in Switzerland. In so doing Pehnt shows the varied forms and ideas behind expressionist architecture and demonstrates that based on very different starting points at least partially congruent architectural expression was able to emerge. A fascinating and insightful read!

[fettesans]

Left, screen captures from Muscle, directed by Hisayasu Satô, 1989. Via. Right, photograph by Herbert List, Hands, violin, and bow of the king of waltz, Johann Strauss. From the series Panoptikum, Vienna, 1944.

While Signal, the dominant propaganda magazine of the Third Reich, focussed on delivering the Nazi ideological message, Tele turned to the cultural life of Europe. It was a magazine that would “employ softer tones… to promote sympathy for Germany,” that would show a selective appreciation of history, culture, and art. 

It was a magazine that showed Germans in a flattering light, as people who appreciated music, art, and the finer things in life, people who, before the war, you might have sat next to during an orchestral performance, people whose not-so-hidden message was, ‘Perhaps we will one day do the same once all this nonsense is finished.’ The editorial policy of the magazine can be summed up as, ‘Let’s not talk about the war.’ Indeed, a picture from the magazine’s penultimate issue was captioned, ‘Let’s just not talk politics.’

That was how, early in 1944, List came to travel to Vienna to meet up with the editors of Tele (who had moved from Berlin due to ongoing air raids), says Richter. “There, he fell in love with the Panoptikum, and suggested that he wanted to do a photo essay on it.”

A waxworks museum in Vienna’s Prater Amusement Park, the Panoptikum was founded by Hermann Präuscher in the 19th century, and showed a variety of waxworks in a lurid mix of fame, horror, sex, murder and anatomical detail in equal measure. 

List had photographed waxworks and catacombs earlier in his career. He had a surrealist fascination for the way the dead eyes and glossy skin of the waxworks were offset by their expressive faces and lifelike poses. Like photography itself, these figures had a surface you couldn’t quite get to grips with, and hidden depths which aroused a sense of unease and the uncanny in the viewer. They existed in a half-world between life and artifice, between fantasy and reality.

Colin Pantall, from Herbert List’s Panoptikum - Colin Pantall speaks to Peer-Olaf Richter, Director of the Herbert List Estate, about the strange and surreal "Panoptikum," a photobook that was first conceived in Vienna in 1944, and published 79 years later, in Magnum, September 29, 2023.

--

(...) the dream experience cannot be isolated from its content. Not because it may uncover secret inclinations, inadmissible desires, nor because it may release the whole flock of instincts, nor because it might, like Kant’s God, 'sound our hearts'; but because it restores the movement of freedom in its authentic meaning, showing how it establishes itself or alienates itself, how it constitutes itself as radical responsibility in the world, or how it forgets and abandons itself to its plunge into causality. The dream is that absolute exposure of the ethical content, the heart shown naked.

Michel Foucault, from Dream, Imagination, and Existence, 1954. In his first published text, Foucault discusses the subject matter of Traum und Existenz (Dream and Existence) by Ludwig Binswanger, 1930. Via.

[princesssarisa]

Opera on Youtube 4

L'Elisir d'Amore (The Elixir of Love)

Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, 1967 (Carlo Bergonzi, Renata Scotto; conducted by Gianandrea Gavazzeni; no subtitles)

Metropolitan Opera, 1981 (Luciano Pavarotti, Judith Blegen; conducted by Nicola Rescigno; Spanish subtitles) – Part I, Part II

Metropolitan Opera, 1991 (Luciano Pavarotti, Kathleen Battle; conducted by James Levine; English subtitles) – Part I, Part II

Vienna State Opera, 2005 (Rolando Villazón, Anna Netrebko; conducted by Alfred Eschwé; English subtitles)

Theatro da Paz, Brazil, 2013 (Atalla Ayan, Carmen Monarcha; conducted by Emiliano Patarra; Brazilian Portuguese subtitles)

Teatro Manoel, Malta, 2015 (Cliff Zammit Stevens, Shoushik Barsoumian; conducted by Philip Walsh; English subtitles)

Vienna State Opera, 2017 (Dmitry Korchak, Olga Peretyatko; conducted by Marco Armiliato; no subtitles) – Part I, Part II

Ópera de Bellas Artes, Mexico City, 2017 (Ramón Vargas, Olivia Gorra; conducted by Guido Maria Guida; Spanish subtitles)

Vienna State Opera, 2018 (Benjamin Bernheim, Andrea Carroll; conducted by Frédéric Chaslin; no subtitles)

San Francisco Opera, 2023 (Pene Pati, Slávka Zámečníková; conducted by Ramón Tebar; English subtitles)

Hänsel & Gretel

Vittorio Cottafavi studio film, 1957 (Fiorenza Cossotto, Jan Poleri; conducted by Nino Sanzogno; sung in Italian with Italian subtitles)

August Everding studio film, 1981 (Brigitte Fassbaender, Edita Gruberova; conducted by Georg Solti; English subtitles)

Leipzig Opera, 1981 (Annelott Damm, Steffi Ullmann; conducted by Horst Gurgel; no subtitles)

Julliard Opera Center, 1997 (Jennifer Marquette, Sari Gruber; conducted by Randall Behr; English subtitles)

Opera Australia, 1992 (Suzanne Johnston, Christine Douglas; conducted by Johannes Fritzsch; sung in English)

Vienna State Opera, 2015 (Daniel Sindram, Ileana Tonca; conducted by Christian Thielmann; English subtitles)

Pacific Northwest Opera, 2015 (Sylvia Szadovszki, Ksenia Popova; conducted by Clinton Smith; sung in English with English subtitles)

Scottish Opera, 2020 (Kitty Whately, Rhian Lois; conducted by David Parry; sung in English with English subtitles)

Eklund Opera Program, 2020 (Christine Lee, Anna Whiteway; conducted by Nicholas Carthy; sung in English with English subtitles)

Amarillo Opera, 2021 (Sarah Beckham-Turner, Patricia Westley; conducted by Carolyn Watson; English subtitles)

Turandot

Mario Lanfranchi studio film, 1958 (Lucilla Udovick, Franco Corelli; conducted by Fernando Previtali; English subtitles)

Vienna State Opera, 1983 (Eva Marton, José Carreras; conducted by Lorin Maazel; no subtitles)

Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, 1986 (Gwyneth Jones, Franco Bonisolli; conducted by Jacques Delacote; English subtitles)

Forbidden City, Beijing, 1998 (Giovanna Casolla, Sergej Larin; conducted by Zubin Mehta; no subtitles)

Teatro alla Scala; 2001 (Alessandra Marc, Nicola Martinucci; conducted by Georges Prêtre; French subtitles)

Gran Teatre del Liceu, 2009 (Anna Shafajinskaia, Fabio Armiliato; conducted by Giuliano Carella; English subtitles)

Chorégies d'Orange 2012 (Lise Lindstrom, Roberto Alagna; conducted by Michel Plasson; French subtitles)

Wichita Grand Opera, 2015 (Zvetelina Vassileva, Ricardo Tamura; conducted by Martin Mazik; no subtitles)

Teatro de Bellas Artes, Mexico City, 2017 (Gabriela Georgieva, Carlos Galván; conducted by Enrique Patrón de Rueda; Spanish subtitles)

Opera Hong Kong, 2018 (Oksana Dyka, Alfred Kim; conducted by Paolo Olmi; English subtitles)

Eugene Onegin

Prince Regent Theatre, Munich, 1965 (Hermann Prey, Ingeborg Bremert; conducted by Joseph Keilberth; sung in German; no subtitles)

Paris Opera, 1982 (Benjamin Luxon, Galina Vishnevskaya; conducted by Mstislav Rostropovich; French subtitles)

Kirov Opera, 1984 (Sergei Leiferkus, Tatiana Novikova; conducted by Yuri Temirkanov; English subtitles)

Chicago Lyric Opera, 1985 (Wolfgang Brendel, Mirella Freni; conducted by Bruno Bartoletti; Spanish subtitles)

Petr Weigl film, 1988 (Michal Docolomanský dubbed by Bernd Weikl, Magda Vásáryová dubbed by Teresa Kubiak; conducted by Georg Solti; English subtitles)

Festspielhaus Baden-Baden, 1998 (Vladimir Glushchak, Orla Boylan; conducted by Gennadi Rozhdestvensky; English subtitles) – Act I, Act II, Act III

Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia, Valencia, 2011 (Artur Rucinski, Kristine Opolais; conducted by Omer Meir Wellber; no subtitles) – Part I, Part II

Teatro Comunale di Bologna, 2014 (Artur Rucinski, Amanda Echalaz; conducted by Aziz Shokhakimov; English subtitles)

Mariinsky Theatre, 2015 (Andrei Bondarenko, Yekaterina Goncharova; conducted by Valery Gergiev; French subtitles)

Livermore Valley Opera, 2019 (Morgan Smith, Antonina Chehovska; conducted by Alex Katsman; English subtitles)

[ltwilliammowett]

Die Bunte Kuh / The Colourful cow

At the time of the Hanseatic League, this large trade association in northern Germany had to struggle with pirates, as did other countries and regions later on. At first, the most famous german pirate Klaus Störtebeker and his gang the Vitalien Brothers worked as privateers and soon turned to piracy.

To protect maritime trade with England and Holland from pirate attacks, the city of Hamburg financed the merchants Simon von Utrecht and Hermann Nyenkerken two "Schniggen" (a kind of long ship) together with weapons and seamen. One of the ships, the Bunte Kuh, was entrusted to Hermann Nyenkerken and not to Simon von Utrecht as assumed in the legend; this sailor, who had moved to the Hanseatic city from Flanders, was probably in command of the second ship. 

The Bunte Kuh here as a cog, by Adolf Bock (1890-1968) (x)

The light Schniggen were 30m long, could be rowed and were ideal for hunting pirates, as their speed and manoeuvrability made them superior to the large merchant cogs. 

A small Schnigge (x)

From 1400 onwards, they were used to pursue and fight the Vitalien Brothers and pirates of Störtebeker and Gödeke Michels, who threatened maritime trade in the North Sea with several ships, one of which bore the name Seetiger. The Bunte Kuh was accompanied by a fleet of armed merchant cogs, called Friedeschiffe, led by the Hamburg councillors Nikolaus Schocke and Hermann Lange. Störtebeker was finally captured off Helgoland. The pirates were defeated and transported on the Bunte Kuh to Hamburg, where Störtebeker and others were beheaded on Grasbrook outside the city gates in 1401.

So much for the history of the Bunte Kuh in a nutshell. She always is portrayed as a cog, but she wasn’t one. The erroneous classification of the Bunte Kuh as a cog and the attribution of the ship to Simon of Utrecht probably goes back to the tombstone of Simon of Utrecht, which was renewed in the 17th century and provided with an erroneous eulogy inscription.

[tomorrowusa]

« Vance reportedly wondered if Trump would be "America’s Hitler." Now that he’s a V.P. contender, Vance told Ross that Mike Pence could have justifiably tried to subvert Biden's election. He’s a completely amoral sycophant without an independent political base, which I think is what Trump is probably looking for. »

— Michelle Goldberg on amoral sycophant Sen. J.D. Vance at the New York Times.

Vance is greedy for power and influence. He previously called Trump "America's Hitler" But now Vance is competing to become his Hermann Goering.

Vance wondered whether Trump was ‘America’s Hitler,’ says former roommate sharing screenshot

The screen shot has been removed, but it lives on at Internet Archive. 🙂

The expression "cynical asshole" seems rather appropriate for Vance himself.

[callsignspark]

anything for you | part two

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Rebecca Hermann (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied violence against women/children, discussions of murder (nothing explicit/gory), inaccuracies about hotel ownership, implied child neglect, descriptions of anxiety/panic attacks, discussion of insecurities, eventual smut, warnings to be added as needed 

word count: 5.5k

series masterlist | main masterlist

note: here's part two, thank you to everyone who read the first part and left such kind comments - you're all so lovely!

Thursday, June 22, 2023 | San Diego, CA | 1332 PST

“When you asked if I was free for lunch, I thought this was going to be a fun, sexy thing.”

“And you thought garlic-and-onion-filled gyros were the appropriate pairing for a sexy lunch?” She snorts, rolling her eyes when he keeps talking, ignoring her teasing.

“I wouldn’t have said yes and ordered your favorite-” Jake pauses to shove a huge bite into his mouth “-if I knew you were just going to torture me with this stuff.”

“That’s disgusting, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Rebecca looks at him with disdain when he opens his mouth to show off his half-chewed food. “How you were voted California’s most eligible bachelor eight years in a row is a complete mystery to me.”

“I never had lunch with the selection committee.”

She smiles at his joke, then straightens up, getting down to the matter at hand. “So, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I don’t care what color our napkins are.” He groans, flopping back into the loveseat where they’re sharing lunch.

“Well, neither do I!” She huffs, flapping the fabric samples toward his face. “Pick one: pearl white or ivory cream.”

“Those look fucking identical.”

“They basically are.”

“So why does it matter?”

“Because Michelle needs an answer today on what we want for the reception, so please pick one.”

“I want whatever you want, darling.” Her blood heats up; the combination of the condescending pet name and how attractive he manages to be while lounging on the uncomfortable corporate-chic cushions is practically lethal.

She practically whines his name, tired of the back and forth on a conversation they’d already had three times. “Stop being a patronizing dickhead and just pick one of the nearly identical napkin options.”

“The right one.”

“Perfect, a fantastic choice.” She tosses the samples on the table and pulls out her phone to text the decision to their wedding planner. “You know, it would be nice if you would help make some of the real decisions for this wedding, too.”

“But you’re doing such a great job! And besides, I’m giving valu-”

“If you say, “valuable input on the honeymoon” one more time, I will sit on you and shove that salad down your throat, I swear to god, Jacob.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll shove more than just the salad.”

He sits up, a huge grin lighting up his face. “Wow! You are so feisty today, Mrs. Seresin!”

“I’m not Mrs. Seresin yet; you pompous, jacka-” Her joking tirade is cut off by his desk phone.

“Honey, as much as I love it when you’re mean to me, gonna need you to hold onto that thought. I told Ginger to hold all calls while you were here unless it was an emergency.” He hustles to his desk, brushing his fingers against her cheek as he passes. “This is Jake Ser- okay. Okay, hold on, sweetheart, she’s right here. Just a second.”

He waves her over as he holds the receiver away from his mouth, “It’s your sister, and she’s crying.”

“What?!” She trips getting up, her mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario. “Delilah? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Th-they-they aren’t-t-t…”

“Try to breathe, honey. Are you okay? Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”

“N-not hurt.” It’s a relief to hear, but Delilah’s breathing is too unstable to be comfortable.

“Alright, okay. It’s okay. I’m right here. Don’t want to trigger an asthma attack, so we’re gonna take deep breaths together, okay? Just like we used to when you were little.” The sisters breathe together, the older one making sure her inhales and exhales are loud enough for the younger one to hear over the phone.

It takes a few minutes, but Delilah’s breathing starts to level out. “Thanks, Becca.”

“Of course, kiddo. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“My academic awards ceremony is tonight, and I’m probably getting a big math award, but Dad just called me to tell me that they’re not gonna make it because it’s Mom’s birthday! They’re going to dinner and then to the bars with the guys from Dad’s crew! Can you believe it?” Her voice is weak but borderline shrill. “It’s my senior year – the last big thing besides graduation – and they’re not coming!”

The last three words send Rebecca’s mind into a spiral. All the times she had heard that exact phrase and then been the one to care for her sister flashing through her mind. At seventeen, being forced to be a primary caretaker to an infant Delilah during the limited free time she had in between school and work. At twenty-eight, and parenting her preteen sister because her biological parents decided to go on a month-long trip to the Caribbean. Every time they had deemed something else more important than their child. The countless volleyball and softball games missed, cash wasted on tickets for the school musical, parent-teacher conferences that were straight-up ignored half the time. When Rebecca was younger, she would mourn the gas money burned and the free time stolen as she acted as a personal assistant and valet to her sister, driving back and forth to practices, dentist appointments, dance classes, play rehearsals, haircuts, anything that Delilah needed. Looking back now, she was grateful they had gotten to spend that time together.

“We’ll be there.” She interrupts without thinking.

“You will?” Delilah’s voice is soft but pleased. The intention of her call was just to vent to her big sister, let out the frustration of being ignored again by her parents. “You don’t have to. I know you’re both busy.”

“Never too busy for you, babe. What time does it start? Do you want a ride?” She sinks into the desk chair, crossing her legs and leaning back, hoping the pressure building behind her eyes doesn’t turn into a full-blown migraine.

Rebecca can feel Jake hovering before he squats next to the chair. She ignores him in favor of letting the now happy voice of her sister wash over her. It’s a solid plan until a large hand lands on her thigh. His palm is warm where it lays against her skin, and his fingers gently rub the material of her skirt, letting her know he’s there. She turns her head to the right and peeks an eye open, watching him watch her.

“Is she hurt?” He mouths the question, looking relieved after she shakes her head.

She hesitates for a second before putting her hand on his, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand in thanks. Jake takes the opportunity to hold her hand, playfully squeezing her fingers a few times, a ghost of a smile on his face. The sisters talk a bit more, confirming plans for the evening and saying “I love you” before hanging up. Rebecca drops the receiver into its cradle and leans back, looking at the ceiling. The office is quiet, the clock on the wall making the only noise in the otherwise silent room.

“Since we’re not preparing to storm Normandy, I take it everything is okay now?” She hums in confirmation, still staring at the ceiling. “What happened?”

“They’re not coming.”

There’s something about the way she says it – voice hollow, emotionless – that sets warning bells off in his head, but he still asks, “Who?”

“Fucking Seymour and Brittany.” She starts pacing. “It’s Brittany’s birthday, so they’ve decided that it’s not necessary to attend Delilah’s academic awards ceremony. Her senior year academic awards ceremony. Her last one. Where – because of her intelligence, hard work, and high academic ranking – it’s extremely likely that she’ll be receiving a boatload of awards. My father called her and told her they weren’t going to make it because they’re going out to dinner and then drinking with those idiots that hang around him! As if they couldn’t do that after the awards are over! It starts at six, and it’ll be like, at a maximum, an hour and a half!”

Jake stares in shock at the woman trying to wear a hole into his carpet. It wasn’t uncommon for her to curse or to be louder than usual when joking around, but the last time, the only time, he had seen Rebecca raise her voice in anger was that fateful night in February when she reamed him out after breaking into her house. Since then, her demeanor has matched the woman she had always been known to be. A kind and thoughtful person with a quieter disposition, one that hid a tough side she brought out only when needed, and a wit sharp enough to cut glass. Her voice is scathing, decades' worth of built-up frustration and resentment being released, and it freezes him in place.

“It’s just so unfair! I know they don’t like me, that I’m the “black sheep” of the family, or whatever the latest lame-ass attempt at an insult my father has taken to calling me. I don’t care about that. I worked my ass off junior and senior year to get a good scholarship, and I did. I practically put in full-time hours to save up enough to get out of that fucking house, and I did! The day after my eighteenth birthday, I packed up that crappy Camry – that I bought with my own money! – and moved into that sketchy apartment with five roommates. I worked hard to be the “outcast” of that family! I escaped, and they don’t like that, and that’s fine. I don’t need them to like me!”

Her voice was getting louder, the pacing and hand gestures more frenzied. She could feel her blood pressure rising, but she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t been this mad in years. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she was this angry.

“But it’s not fair that Delilah is treated like that! Like some show pony they can trot out when it pleases them. I know she’s the kid that was created on purpose, and I was the mistake no one wanted, but they just show her off like she’s some shiny object! Bragging about how smart she is and her amazing grades, her talent and how she gets cast in lead roles in the school plays and musicals, her athletic prowess, and how she definitely could have gone D1 if she wanted. But she doesn’t want to because she’s going to dedicate herself to helping others – something they know nothing about – but, of course, none of that actually matters to them! I can count on two hands the number of things they’ve actually showed up in the last eighteen years and still have fingers left over! And the worst part is she still believes they’re going to show up! That they’re suddenly going to give a damn about anything she does. That they’re going to treat her as more than a way for them to make themselves look better. And she doesn’t have anyone else because the only other family left is our grandfather, and it would take a fucking miracle for him to show up to an event where there’s even the slightest possibility that his son might be there. There’s no one else, so I said we’d g- oh my god.”

She stops on a dime, turning on her heel to Jake, who was shaken out of his stupor after the third curse word and now is staring in disbelief at his fiancé. “I said we’d go. You don’t have to go. I’m sorry I said you were coming without checking first-”

“I want to go.”

“-I just got caught up in the moment and didn’t think about it. You don’t have to-” His words register. “What?”

“I said it’s okay that you RSVP’d yes for me; I want to go.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not your sister.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I’m aware of that. Otherwise, this engagement would be kinda awkward. And illegal.”

“What?” The joke goes over her head; she’s only half paying attention, her body still on a high from anger and the adrenaline rush that hit when she heard her sister crying.

“Because if she was my sister, then we’d be related, which is illegal or at the very least frowned upon…” He trails off, realizing he’s not getting through. “Wow, that really got to you, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m used to their bullshit; I usually don’t get so mad. But hearing her cry on the phone like that, she was practically hyperventilating when you answe- wait. How did Delilah even get through?”

“I put her on the allowed caller list.”

“You did?” She’s surprised.

She probably shouldn’t be anymore. Except for the rough start to their engagement in February, Jake had a perfect gentleman.

His generosity is unfamiliar to her, unexpected from a man of the Dagger organization. And she hadn’t been expecting the same care to be so easily extended to her sister. She assumed she would have to make more demands to ensure Delilah was taken care of properly. But he’s done everything she was planning to ask of him, and more, before she even had the chance to bring it up. A college fund set up with safeguards in place so only a select few have access, protecting the money from her greedy father. A brand-new car: one that’s cute and practical, with a top safety rating, in her sister’s preferred color. A week-long trip over Delilah’s spring break to the three schools she was considering so she could make what Jake called “the most educated decision possible.” He even almost bought a house that neighbored the campus of her final choice, a decision that Rebecca had to talk him down from. She’s still suspicious that he secretly bought it, despite a lengthy lecture on why that was a dumb idea.

Despite his kindness, it was hard for them to interact with each other at the start of their engagement. The first month was awkward, filled with distrusting glances and silted conversations as she settled into the guest room of his ocean-view property. Their proposal announcement was spent answering questions about the financial impact of Rebecca joining Eagle Hotels as the head of the newly reformed community and charity outreach division instead of their whirlwind romance. The press conference was supposed to be the way to launch the couple to the public, grabbing attention and headlines at the fact that California’s eternal bachelor was taking a wife who was going to use the profits of his multi-million company to pour money into cancer research and other worthy causes. Instead, the next day, the media was speculating about the financial future of Eagle and the validity of their relationship, not believing they were in love – or even liked each other – due to the lack of chemistry and the visible discomfort radiating from them both.

After reading that even reputable publications questioned the engagement, Rebecca realized they needed to become friends. Being comfortable with each other would allow them to sell the relationship to the public and investors while having the bonus side effect of convincing the older members of the Dagger organization that were still doubtful. Getting to know each other on a surface level and becoming friends would allow that to happen without having to get too close. Her plan had worked. They became comfortable with each other, the speculation stopped, and the gushing over their relationship started.

It also had the unintended effect of him becoming even more thoughtful, taking her into consideration and asking her opinion, even when it wasn’t necessary. He makes her laugh, a perfectly timed terrible pun lifting her spirits on tough days. He gives affection freely. Keep gestures subtle in public, a hand on her lower back or whispering in her ear just to follow it up with a kiss to her temple, all done to get perfect paparazzi shots of the couple. In private, around friends and family, his hands are bolder but never disrespectful. A strong arm around her waist, a gentle kiss on her neck, a warm hand on her thigh.

It's not what she’s used to from men, and it flusters her, even knowing it’s an act.

Then, the reminder that it’s an act puts her guard back up. Reverting to constantly reminding herself that this is a business agreement, a marriage of convenience.

Nothing more.

It’s hard, though. He makes her feel safe. Something a man hadn’t done in a decade.

Even when something happens that rips her back to reality and she’s reminded that this isn’t a real relationship, she feels safe. She knew what she was signing up for when she agreed to the marriage. What it would mean to be the wife of The Hangman. That he was a dangerous man who had done horrible things. There’s been several nights when he comes home late, knuckles intact to ensure plausible deniability of the Dagger leader, but with dark red flecks on an otherwise pristine white shirt that betray his innocence. It’s clear from the fact that Jake lets her see him on nights like that, nights when business had to be taken care of, that he trusts her. She trusts him, not fully, but enough to know that with him, she’s safe. She knows that as long as it’s not his blood that he comes home covered in. But another night, another ruined shirt, and the reminder runs through her head on eternal rotation.

This isn’t real. It’s to protect your sister, your family. This isn’t real. It’s to protect your sister, your family.

“Of course I did. She’s family. Oh honey, come here.” He pulls her close after catching sight of her lower lip wobbling and hugs her soft body into his harder one. Mentally admonishing himself after the moment he takes to appreciate her curves when she’s practically crying. “It’ll be okay. She’s going to school; it’s paid for, and she can stay with us during her breaks. Or we’ll get her a good internship, so she doesn’t have to come back at all. And after we get married, she doesn’t ever have to see them again if she doesn’t want to.”

“I know.” She rests her forehead against his collarbones, breathing to try and stop the tears threatening to escape. “I’m just worried.”

“About what?” One of his hands starts rubbing her back, the other drifting down to his favorite spot on her hip. “We can fix it, just gotta tell me.”

“Everything? I don’t know; I just feel so guilty. For the longest time, I was resentful that I had to take care of her so much, and of course, it was them I was mad at, but I’m afraid it seemed like I was upset with her. And then there were so many years where I was more distant than I wanted to be because dealing with them was just so awful. And I couldn’t get her out of there, and I’m worried that those two have hurt her in ways that I’ll never be able to understand or fix.” Her voice gets tighter as she speaks, cracking on the last word.

“Hey, breathe. It’s okay. I know you feel bad, but you did everything you could for her. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. And even though you were kinda distant, you still spent so much time with her. She loves you so much; she wants to be just like you. And let’s face it – with both parents alive, no documented history of abuse, and your father being who he is, no judge in the county would have dared to give you custody. You did the best you could do, and it was enough. She’s kind, smart, and funny, and I’m 110% certain that is all of you.” He wipes a tear that falls. “And I’m here now. Together we’ll keep her as safe as we possibly can. I will do everything in my power to protect you both. Okay?”

She sniffles, “Okay. Thank you, Jake.”

“Of course, anything for you, you know that. Now let’s see a smile!” Her weak attempt at a smile is met with his wide grin. “There’s my girl!”

His smile turns confused when she bites back a laugh. “What?”

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

How the fuck did I get here?

Rebecca has had that exact thought countless times since February. If someone had told her five months earlier that she would be sitting in the back of her high school’s auditorium next to Jacob “The Hangman” Seresin, and not only would he be her fiancé, but he would be willingly and eagerly attending her sister’s academic awards ceremony, and that it was his idea to buy a bouquet of daisies and make a reservation at the nicest steakhouse in the city to celebrate afterward, she would have taken that person to the emergency room for fear of horrific brain damage.

After the call with her sister Jake had cleared the rest of his schedule, insisting they spend the rest of the afternoon together. He spent the next few hours driving them around town, completing a to-do list that existed in his head. The first stop was a jewelry store to pick up two necklaces. One he immediately put around Rebecca’s neck. A beautiful white gold pendant with a teardrop-shaped peridot gemstone that rested perfectly on her decolletage. August’s birthstone for her and her sister’s birthday. The second box had an identical necklace, a graduation gift for Delilah, he explained. She didn’t have a chance to protest the much too expensive gifts before he was dragging her down the street to a bookstore where they argued over the best author of the twentieth century for almost an hour. Leaving with multiple books by Ian Fleming and Sue Grafton for comparison purposes and a promise to the owner to return. They popped into Rebecca’s favorite bakery for a snack and left with a baker’s dozen of treats and two iced teas. Splitting a chocolate donut, they dropped the rest of the pastries at the Machado household for Javy and Julianna to enjoy on their anniversary weekend. The last stop was a florist on Main Street to grab a bouquet before they picked Delilah up and headed to the school.

It had been a perfect afternoon.

The more she thinks about how smoothly everything went, how natural it felt, the more stressed she becomes. It shouldn’t have been easy. It shouldn’t have happened at all! He had more important things to do than spend the afternoon together. Why would he do that? She’s attempting to distract herself from the overwhelming feelings threatening to send her into a panic attack by flipping through the awards ceremony program when she sees it.

Her brain disconnects from her body; she can feel it happen. She knows the room is loud; it had been loud when they sat down, but now everything is muffled, and the only thing she can hear is blood rushing in her ears. Her body suddenly feels like concrete, heavy in a way it isn’t usually; an invisible pressure pushing especially hard on her sternum, making her breathing staccato and shallow. The folded booklet in her hands is now blurry, her eyes so unfocused she’s seeing multiple of the program swirling in front of her. Her hands start to shake in a way they haven’t done in a long time.

It’s the goddamn program. A voice in her head tells her. How are you supposed to deal with this? Seeing her name out of nowhere!

Another voice interrupts. No! It’s his fault. He’s being too nice; it wasn’t supposed to be like this! He wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She distantly thinks both of the voices are probably right. Because for the second time today, she can feel Jake’s concern from where he’s seated next to her – the auditorium is old, and the seats are packed together, reminiscent of a time with laxer safety regulations – and Rebecca knows that his eyebrows are scrunched together. They do that when he’s confused or worried; she noticed a few weeks after she moved into his place. She can feel his hand land on hers, and his breath is warm against her cheek where he’s leaned in close to check on her. He’s probably asking if she’s okay, asking what’s wrong, asking if she needs anything, shockingly sweet for a man suspected to be the cause of twenty-two deaths, but she can’t focus on him because right there, printed in black and white, is her mother’s name.

Monroe Mathematics Scholarship - $5,000 Given to the graduating senior who completed all the advanced mathematics courses with the highest overall four-year average and is pursuing higher education in medicine, engineering, or education. Established in 2009, this scholarship was created in loving memory of Laura Monroe and is generously donated by an anonymous alumnus. 2023 Winner: Delilah Hermann

“-ecca? Honey?” Her ears come back into play as a hand turns her face to the left. Dazed brown eyes meet worried green ones. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Liar.

The green eyes narrow. “You’re lying. What’s wrong?”

“I- just… flipping through the program and seeing her name sprinkled throughout it right next to the words “graduating senior” got to me. She’s not a baby anymore. She’s going away to school, at a school that’s far away from me. And I’m going to miss her.”

Not a lie. Not the truth either.

“Oh, honey.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, right hand absentmindedly playing with her hair. “I know, it sucks. It was hard to send all three of my sisters off to school, especially Kayla, and we’re not nearly as close as you two are. I don’t have any words to make it better, but I get it if that helps?”

“Yeah, it helps a little bit.”

“Good. Now!” He pulls her in close, pressing their cheeks together as he dramatically gestures toward the front of the auditorium. “Who exactly is that punk sitting next to my sister-in-law?”

“You don’t recognize him? That’s Travis.”

“Travis Kazansky?” She nods as she settles back into her own seat and firmly closes the program, she still felt dazed, but the weight of his arm was grounding. “Actually, where are the Kazanskys?”

“Sarah mentioned that Tom’s treatment was harder than usual the other day. I think they were planning to stay home so he can rest. Poor Travis. His senior year has been pretty rough.”

“God, he got big. What happened? Why are they sitting together?”

“Well, he went through puberty; that tends to happen to children, especially those that are 18 years old.”

He lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “You’re so funny I almost forgot how to laugh. Why are they sitting together?”

“Probably because they’re friends, Jake.”

“Friends?! How did those two become friends?”

“Delilah was his trig tutor, and they became friends… how ever kids become friends these days. TikTok or whatever. I don’t know anymore.”

“I thought she was taking calculus?”

“She did take calc, but she was a tutor for lower-level math classes this year.” A small smile forms on her face, watching the two teenagers shyly flirt with each other, surrounded by their friends.

“Jesus, you two are smart. I don’t know where you got- Look!” Jake interrupts his own muttering to aggressively point down front again. “Look at that! He put his arm around her!”

“I see that. It’s very sweet.”

He looks incredulous. “Sweet?! That’s not sweet! He’s taking advantage of her!”

“You’re being ridiculous! He puts his arm around her, that is not taking advantage of her. He is a perfectly nice boy!”

“No, he is not “a nice boy” – he’s a teenage boy! He's the starting quarterback and captain of the lacrosse team!”

“Hmm, wow, sounds familiar.”

“Exactly! I know what he’s like because that’s who I was!”

She rolls her eyes at the overprotective brother routine. “And you turned out fairly decent. I think we’ll be okay.”

“No! He’s not good enough for-”

“Jake. What he’s doing is totally harmless. He’s a good kid, and we know his parents very well. I’m not worried about it. And I’m actually glad a cute boy is flirting with Delilah. I didn’t get that, so I’m happy she’s getting to experience it.”

He freezes, looking sideways at her, noting her wistful expression as she watches the younger blonde boy play with her sister’s perfectly curled hair. “No one flirted with you in high school?”

“No, which isn’t surprising. I was a dork and so painfully shy. Besides, no one wanted to be known for being the guy that flirted with the too-smart-for-her-own-good, fat girl.” She shifts in her chair, dislodging his arm from her shoulders, uncomfortable with the vulnerability she had accidentally shown. His response is interrupted by Principal Scott attempting to start the evening, the entire audience cringing at the feedback that reverberates through the hall.

“Well, it’s nice to know some things around here never changed.”

Jake is worried about the woman in his passenger seat; she hasn’t once made fun of his music choice or criticized his bad blinker habits. She’s been staring out the window since they left the restaurant, just watching the bright lights of downtown. “You didn’t cry as much as I thought you would.”

His bad joke works, as it so frequently does with her. “Oh, like you’re so tough! I heard you sniffle when Delilah got the math scholarship.”

“How could I not be proud of her? She won seven awards, and that was the biggest one I saw listed in the program, and she won it!” His eyes go big as he defends himself.

She leans back into her seat, crossing her arms across her chest. “It is a big award, must be a pretty successful alumnus who donated it. Wonder who it is…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool of them, whoever they are.”

She goes to question him – fairly certain the anonymous alumni donor is him – when he makes an unexpected turn. “What are you doing?”

“Ice cream.”

Her eyes narrow, “I thought you didn’t want dessert?”

“Maybe I just wanted to have some alone time and get a lil something sweet with my something sweet.”

“You said no at the restaurant, that you were “too full” for dessert.” She points out.

“Well, I’ve since changed my mind.” He sniffs. “A man is allowed to do that.”

“Mmmhm. You’ve done that a few times tonight.”

He plays dumb. “What do you mean?”

“When Delilah mentioned that we were going to Morton’s for a celebration dinner in front of Travis, I thought you would blow a gasket. But instead, you invited him to join us; I didn’t even have to nudge you. And you didn’t complain once when you called the restaurant to adjust our reservation.”

“Anything for you, my dear.”

She starts chuckling at him. “Stop it! You are so full of shit. There was nothing! No complaining, no protesting the, the- oh, what did you call him when he put his hand on her back? Oh! No protesting the “devil child” joining our dinner? And by the way, I can’t believe you suggested that Travis drive Delilah home and then stuffed fifty bucks in his hand so they could stop and get ice cream!”

“He’s not a bad kid.”

“Oh, and what pray tell has caused this sudden change of heart, Mr. Seresin?”

“He was very polite and respectful.”

“And?” She pokes his arm, poking him harder when he mumbles something. “I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“…and he called me sir without any prompting.” He backs into a spot, completely avoiding eye contact once in park.

“Oh my god.” Her chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. “You are so ridiculous.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He looks genuinely sad, pouting in the driver’s seat.

She unbuckles and leans across the console, getting in his personal space with a smile bigger than he had ever seen from her. “I thought you liked it when I’m mean to you?”

Her voice is low, sexy, even as she’s mocking him with his own words from earlier in the day. Suddenly his whole body feels hot, and he laughs to deflect, praying to any available deities that his neck isn’t turning red. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Just for that, you can pay for ice cream.” He climbs out of the car, smile growing as he listens to her protests about how she wasn’t even the one that wanted ice cream, so he should be the one to pay. She’s still making her case when they meet at the bumper, but he doesn’t respond, distracted by how she hooked her hand through his elbow without thinking. He stares at the ring adorning her fourth finger, and his heart thumps.

This is what the rest of our lives are going to be like.

She gently pinches the inside of his bicep as she presses into his side to give more room to a young family juggling a stroller and three young kids on a sugar high, wiggling her fingers at the baby propped on his mom’s hip. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Always, my dear.”

tagging: @atarmychick007 | @briseisgone | @bussyslayer333 | @emma8895eb | @hangmanbrainrot | @mayhemmanaged | @myfaveficrecs | @roleycoleyreccenter | @soulmates8 | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @shanimallina87 | @gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @mothdruid | @mouseymagines | @notroosterbradshaw | @princessphilly | @rhettabbotts | @roosterbruiser | @ryebecca | @theharddeck | @withahappyrefrain

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future parts, please send me an ask!

credit for dividers here

[goalhofer]

2024 olympians representing non country of residence part 7

Nigeria: Adebola Adeyeye, basketball (Brampton, Ontario); Michelle Alozie, soccer (Apple Valley, California); Obiageri Amaechi, athletics (San Francisco, California); Dubem Amene, athletics (Farmington Hills, Michigan); Promise Amukamara, basketball (Glendale, Arizona); Ashley Anumba, athletics (Charlottesville, Virginia); Ayomide Bello, canoeing (Bowie, Maryland); Lauren Ebo, basketball (Upper Marlboro, Maryland); Jennifer Echegini, soccer (London, U.K.); Blessing Ejiofor, basketball (Paterson, New Jersey); Nicole Enabosi, basketball (Montgomery County, Maryland); Chukwuebuka Enekwechi, athletics (West Lafayette, Indiana); Edose Ibadin, athletics (Prince George's County, Maryland); Ezinne Kalu, basketball (Newark, New Jersey); Ashton Mutuwa, wrestling (Cedar Lake, Indiana); Dubem Nwachukwu, athletics (Katy, Texas); Adaku Nwandu, swimming (Singapore); Chidi Okezie, athletics (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania); Amy Okonkwo, basketball (Rancho Cucamonga, California); Ijeoma Okoronkwo, soccer (Richmond, Texas); Olaitan Olaore, boxing (Wallsend, U.K.); Sade Olatoye, athletics (Dublin, Ohio); Ifeoma Onumonu, soccer (Rancho Cucamonga, California); Udodi Onwuzurike, athletics (Bloomfield Hills, Michigan); Chioma Onyekwere, athletics (Detroit, Michigan); Antoinette Payne, soccer (Birmingham, Alabama); Nicole Payne, soccer (Birmingham, Alabama); Tobi Sajuade, swimming (Bath, U.K.) & Olaoluwatomi Taiwo, basketball (Carmel, Indiana) Norway: Isabel Freese, equestrian (Mühlen, Germany); Victoria Gulliksen, equestrian (Knokke, Belgium); Viktor Hovland, golf (Stillwater, Oklahoma); Jon-Hermann Hegg, shooting (Dingle, Ireland) & Kristoffer Ventura, golf (Palm Beach Gardens, Florida) Palestine: Yazan Al-Bawwab, swimming (Amsterdam, The Netherlands); Layla Almasri, athletics (Colorado Springs, Colorado); Fares Badawi, judo (Damascus, Syria); Omar Hantoli, taekwondo (Sharjah, U.A.E.); Jorge Sahle; Jr., shooting (Santiago, Chile) & Valerie Tarazi, swimming (Crystal Lake, Illinois) Panama: Bernhard Christianson, swimming (Easton, Maryland) & Gianna Woodruff, athletics (Santa Monica, California) Papua New Guinea: Georgia-Leigh Rotuisolia, swimming (Gold Coast, Australia) Paraguay: Javier Insfran, rowing (Rio De Janeiro, Brazil) Peru: McKenna De Bever, swimming (Denver, Colorado) The Philippines: John Cabang, athletics (San Sebastián, Spain); Aleah Finnegan, gymnastics (Lee's Summit, Missouri); Jarod Hatch, swimming (Morgan Hill, California); Lauren Hoffman, athletics (Haymarket, Virginia); Emma Malabuyo, gymnastics (Los Angeles, California); Bianca Pagdanganan, golf (Tucson, Arizona); Levi Ruivivar, gymnastics (Plano, Texas) & Kayla Sanchez, swimming (Toronto, Ontario) Poland: Magdalena Niemczyk, athletics (Versailles, France) & Mariya Zhodzik, athletics (Baranavichy, Belarus) Portugal: Tiago Apolónia, table tennis (Ochsenhausen, Germany); Thomas Augusto, skateboarding (San Marcos, California); Jorge Da Fonseca, judo (São Tomé, São Tomé and Príncipe); Agate Da Sousa, athletics (São Tomé, São Tomé & Príncipe); Fatoumata Diallo, athletics (Paris, France); António Do Vale, equestrian (Lastrup, Germany); Vanessa Farinha, breakdancing (London, U.K.); João Geraldo, table tennis (Ochsenhausen, Germany) & Rochele Nunes, judo (Pelotas, Brazil)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Madeline Grant

Published: May 21, 2024

The women of Iran are dancing. Women blinded, with one eye, or one arm, are dancing. Iranian Kurds are dancing. Across Europe, Iranian dissidents are dancing. Iranians – often, relatives of the regime’s victims – are drinking to show their joy. The daughters of Minoo Majidi, a mother shot dead by security services during the 2022 protests, shared a video of them raising a glass to President Raisi’s death. 

Dark humour – the jokes of an oppressed people – are circulating. “Mr Raisi, you surprised us. We have no tapas for our drinks,” chuckles one Iranian in a celebratory video on social media. There was the gag about how a Mossad agent called “Eli Copter” had caused the crash. People have handed out cakes and sweets in public squares – an act of symbolic importance in Persian culture, often associated with joyous events. Celebratory fireworks filled the skies in Iranian cities.

Such courage is all the more impressive given how little Raisi’s death is likely to change anything in this closed prison of a society. It may somewhat alter the succession, since he had been one of the men tipped to succeed Khamenei, but the Ayatollahs retain their stranglehold. The bravery of anyone involved in any celebration or act of civil disobedience such as removing a headscarf, is astounding. Those letting off fireworks or handing out sweets are risking their lives. 

History will remember Raisi as a squalid tyrant who took a twisted pride in human suffering. He was involved in the torture and extrajudicial murder of thousands of political prisoners held in Iranian jails and the mass killings of opponents in 1988, when as many as 30,000 are believed to have lost their lives. As Mariam Memarsadeghi wrote in a chilling article for the Tablet, “virgins were systematically raped before their execution, to circumvent the Islamic prohibition on killing virgins and to prevent women and girls from reaching heaven”. 

And yet, the BBC posted about “President Ebrahim Raisi’s mixed legacy in Iran”. You can imagine the 1945 headlines about the mixed legacy of “motorway-builder, vegetarian rights enthusiast and dog-lover” Adolf Hitler, or that of “inspirational plus-size influencer” Hermann Goering. Reuters described how Raisi “rose through Iran’s theocracy from hardline prosecutor to uncompromising president, as he burnished his credentials to position himself to become the next supreme leader”. 

Reading such things you would think Raisi was, at worst, a slight renegade. A cheeky chappie in a kaftan whose loss will be felt by light entertainment for generations. They tweeted like he was Rod Hull – rather than, you know, someone nicknamed “the Butcher of Tehran”. But in the real world, faced with the real consequences of the regime he ran, people are dancing. 

It wasn’t just the BBC in its classic “tightrope walk” mode, either. Things were getting a bit Candle in the Wind at the UN, as the entire Security Council (including both the UK and US representatives) stood to observe a minute of silence for President Raisi. Goodbye Tehran’s rose. 

European Council president Charles Michel tweeted out his sincere condolences, while the “European Commissioner for Crisis Management” committed the EU’s Copernicus satellite system to help locate Raisi’s helicopter, in the name of “#EUSolidarity”. 

Lest we forget, Johan Floderus, a young EU official from Sweden, has been incarcerated at Iran’s notorious Evin prison for more than two years. We don’t see much “#EUSolidarity” coming from the other direction. Not to be undone, President Higgins of Ireland channelled the spirit of Eamon de Valera c.1945, by offering his “deepest sympathies” upon the death of a tyrant. 

Such statements go well beyond basic diplomacy. Nobody asked anyone to gush; they chose to. The message it sends is a slap in the face to those bravely putting their lives on the line for freedom. But it’s par for the course in what is (sometimes optimistically) termed the “international community”. 

Speaking of which, on Monday, the International Criminal Court put out joint bids for arrest warrants for the leaders of Hamas and the prime minister and defence minister of Israel. Given that the ICC has no jurisdiction, nor power of its own to arrest anyone, there was something bleakly comic about the manner of the announcement. Chief prosecutor Karim Khan delivered his statement flanked by a couple of glaring bureaucrats. The ICC appeared to be putting on its best “don’t mess with us” face. It looked like a geriatric version of Bugsy Malone.

The ICC application refers, pointedly, to the “territory of Israel” and the “state of Palestine”, which makes it clear which side its bread is buttered. It notably ignores Hamas’s use of human shields, surely a factor when assessing the civilian death toll. It even holds Israel entirely responsible for “closing the three border crossing points” after October 7. 

Yet Hamas destroyed the Erez crossing, murdering its operators and blowing up the barriers separating it from the Gaza strip. Small wonder border checkpoints weren’t up and running immediately. Condemning Israel for this is grotesque; gaslighting on an international scale. 

The timing is also telling. We have known about the crimes of October 7 from day one, thanks to the body-cams Hamas terrorists so proudly wore to document their butchery. Yet the ICC waited until May 2024 to condemn both Israel and Hamas on the same day. The effect is to suggest a moral equivalence between a democratic state and a genocidal terrorist group that says it wants to repeat the atrocities of October 7 indefinitely. You don’t have to believe Israel is above criticism – and nor should we – to recognise this. 

Multinational organisations like the ICC are often held up as moral arbiters in themselves, when they will only be as virtuous or corrupt as their component member states, and reflecting the same biases. The World Health Organisation has long excluded Taiwan from its membership due to Chinese pressure. A ruinous decision, when Taiwan’s early warnings about the risks of human-to-human transmission of Covid in late 2019 were ignored. Something is rotten in the state of many international bodies and moral courage is in short supply. 

Given such a clear-cut case of evil as Raisi, the mealy-mouthed global response does not bode well. For genuine bravery, we can look to the people at the sharp end of such regimes. Because still, in the midst of it all, the women of Iran dance. 

[detournementsmineurs]

"Philomena" de Stephen Frears (2013) - adapté de l'histoire vraie de Philomena Lee et de son fils Michael A. Hess rapportée par le journaliste britannique Martin Sixsmith dans son livre "The Lost Child of Philomena" (2009) - avec Judi Dench, Steve Coogan, Sophie Kennedy Clark, Michelle Fairley, Anna Maxwell Martin, Mare Winningham, Peter Hermann et Sean Mahon, février 2024.

[squirrelspidersquotations]

"Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it." Charles R. Swindoll

"Do not expect the world to look bright, if you habitually wear grey-brown glasses." Tomas Eliot

"Is there anything I can do to make myself Enlightened?" "As little as you can do to make the sun rise in the morning." "Then of what use are the spiritual exercises you prescribe?" "To make sure you are not asleep when the sun begins to rise." Anthony De Mello

"It is not only for what we do that we are held responsible, but also for what we do not do." Moliere

"The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself." Michel de Montaigne

"They must often change, who would be constant in happiness or wisdom." Confucius

"What could I say to you that would be of value, except that perhaps you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking you cannot find." Hermann Hesse

"Fear twists our ideas and makes crooked the ways of our life; it creates barriers between people, and it certainly destroys love." Jiddu Krishnamurti

[archivyrep]

The relevance of Star Wars to pop culture depictions of archives [Part 3]

Continued from part 2

The entry for Nu on page 87 of Amy Ratcliffe's Star Wars: Women of the Galaxy, which summarizes her role in Star Wars.

What McGrath is saying echoes what is stated elsewhere in the archival literature: that Nu wore "a traditional, conservative robe" and that the archives "even resembled a library, with stacks of glowing records lined up on the shelves," while stating that she exhibited some qualities of stereotypes usually applied to librarians. The same article in Archivaria notes that Obi-Wan did not follow the advice of the archivist, going on a search for the planet, while Nu "with all of her extensive knowledge, was quickly forgotten" in the film. [10] Additional literature noted the similarities between the BIONICLE universe made by Lego, with a Great Archives in Onu-Metru. This series even had a character named Tehutti who is said to have spent all his time within the archives! I was a big fan and user of LEGO for years and never remember this, or how central this archives is to the universe. [11]

Reprinted from my Wading Through the Cultural Stacks WordPress blog. Originally published on Oct. 12, 2022.

Others have said that Obi-Wan was "put in his place by the lady archivist" (Nu) and summarizes Ketelaar who describes archives as "sites of power". Furthermore, renowned archivist Michelle Caswell in 2020 speech at the Association of Canadian Archivists’ annual conference, made an argument about liberatory memory work, saying that they are not bound to linear time in a "sort of Star Wars out-of-order kind of way". [12] That's just two examples, but there is more in other archival literature. For instance, on pages 22 and 23 of the May 2022 edition of Estudios del Discurso, Nina Hoechtl, a visual artist, curator, teacher and independent researcher at Museo Amparo, noted Attack of the Clones as an example of an archival imaginary, and said that:

The archive is a site that joins various sorts of assumptions about kinds of knowledge –how to store,access, retrieve and re-active them, and what is knowable– that are crucial to the ways people, communities, and societies think about themselves, deal with their pasts, ponder on their presents, and imagine their futures.

Caitlin Patterson of Western Washington University makes one one of the more interesting perspectives about Nu: that she does not "conform to all the standard stereotypes" of archives, describing her as "fierce and imposing," and countering "the image of archivists as shy and retreating", stating that her age "commands more respect than that of the average fictional archivist". She goes onto say that Nu is intelligent and dedicated but not "cloistered or passive", but seems to have a "certain possessiveness of the collections" and states that Nu suggests a "different interpretation of the archivist which...still offers a reasonable explanation of her role". [13]

In conclusion, the cranky archivist I noted at the beginning of this post is dead wrong, and should be a bit ashamed of themselves. Star Wars, and pop culture in general will continue to be relevant to archives, and the profession as a whole, [14] whether we like those depictions or not. As for this blog, I'm going keep posting these articles even if people on /r/archivists, a group of individuals who luckily do not represent the majority of the profession, hate them.

© 2022 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[10] Aldred, Tana, Gordon Burr, and Eun Park. (2008). "Crossing a Librarian with a Historian: The Image of Reel Archivists." Archivaria 66: 80, 84, 89.

[11] Schwartz, Joan M. (2006) "'Having New Eyes': Spaces of Archives, Landscapes of Power." Archivaria 61 (September), 19-23.

[12] Buckley, Karen. (2008) "'The Truth is in the Red Files': An Overview of Archives in Popular Culture", Archivaria 66 (1), 101; Caswell, Michelle. (2020). "Feeling Liberatory Memory Work: On the Archival Uses of Joy and Anger", Archivaria 90, 151.

[13] Peterson, Caitlin. “No Dust in Cyberspace?: The Effects of Internet Technology on Perceptions of Archives.” Masters, Western Washington University, 2012. See page 18.

[14] Star Wars appears to be mentioned in archives (and library) literature such as Archive Stories: Facts, Fictions, and the Writing of History, Ljiljana Gavrilović's Culture in Show-Window: Toward a New Museology, Beth M. Sheppard's "Future Shock: The Inevitable Impact of a "New Generation of Patron" on Theological Libraries" (calls Nu a librarian rather than an archivist), a conference paper by Alexandra L. Fitzpatrick and S. Halmhofer entitled "There is Power in the Past: The Politicization of Archaeology and Heritage in the Star Wars Universe", the books Teaching Gender with Libraries and Archives and The Image and Role of the Librarian, S Koevoets' "Into the Labyrinth of Knowledge and Power: The library as a gendered space in the western imaginary", an quoted at the beginning of David Levente Palatinus's article "Subjectivity and the Hauntology of the Digital", to name a few.